within_the_wiresfandomcom-20200214-history
Cassette 4: Winter 1994-95/Transcript
This is the official transcript for the episode which can also be accessed for free at'' patreon.com/withinthewires''SIDE A Sigrid, I don't tell you this enough. I love you. You're my daughter. Of course I love you with all my heart and I am proud of you, Sigrid. You have a lot of responsibility, a lot of stress, managing the daily needs of The Cradle as your mother travels the world, learning everything she can about how to better our little commune. How to restore the innate love of mother and child to the Society. I would do anything for you, Sigrid. And I have. I have done everything in my power to keep you fed, to keep you healthy and whole, to protect you, and to teach you. I have disciplined you, yes, but of course, this is out of devoted love. The love I feel for you is a gift I want to give to the people of this earth. I am filled with love, and I am selfish for not sharing it with all of Society. I will not return home until I do. And that day will be soon. Sigrid, I have such wonderful news. As you can probably see from the stamp on this package, I am in Bangalore. I met a man here named Usman, a lawyer, who promised to get me a meeting with a Council Member, who might be sympathetic to our aims. I didn't want to let on my name or situation, so I fibbed a little. I told him I was a Paris-based attorney concerned with child development practices and I wanted to meet with him about a fictional client I had who was running a family-based commune. I let him believe the commune was located somewhere in former France. After all, it was, once upon a time. It worked. He was well aware of The Cradle, in fact, he even mentioned my own name to me. Of course I had given him a fake name. He was fascinated that there were so many of these “cults,” as he called them, across the globe. He claimed that they – that we – are quite a headache for the Societal Council who have been arguing about what to do about us for years. Some believe military intervention is necessary to stop the threat of armed insurgencies, claiming that our deaths in that case would be our own fault. Apparently the Sundsvall incident is taught in most Development Centers as a cautionary tale against Tribalism and Natural family orders. Loving your family gets you killed, it seems. But Usman mentioned there are a few liberal council members who are interested in reaching out to these groups in hopes to find ways to blend them back into society. I told Usman that my client, who shall not be named (mostly because I completely made them up) was not interested in being folded back into society. They were interested in living their own life with their family, not bothering anyone and not being bothered. Usman did not think that was possible. He did not think I had a strong enough case, which, given that I made the entire situation up, was true. But then he reached out and asked to see me again. We met outside what used to be a temple and I was surprised to see there was another man with him. Had he discovered my law practice was fake? Did he find my photo and real name in a news article? Had he brought a police official with him? I wondered if I should run, but he had seen me. "Laura," he said – Laura was the false name I had given him. "I want you to meet Jure. Jure can help you." I believe Usman may be right. For the past two weeks, Jure and I have met privately to discuss The Cradle. It began obliquely, as I continued to pose as my own attorney, but eventually, I dropped the deception. I came to believe Jure could be trusted totally and completely. I am running out of time here. I promise to tell you more. Very soon. But Sigrid, it is important to me that you understand what I am about to say to you. On February 26, Jure will be visiting The Cradle. On the other side of this cassette I will do my best to prepare our congregation, our large family, for welcoming him in. He is not here to change us or inform on us. He is here to help us. Sigrid, I ask that you make sure our people are warm to him, that they feed him and give him a bed, and show him around. Perhaps Lissette could take charge of creating a guest space for him? She has such a knack for making a space feel homey and welcoming. You do not need to let Jure see everything – I trust you to know where to draw that particular line – but answer his questions honestly. We have nothing to hide, except our location, which I am confident that he will not reveal. Sigrid, I also ask that you keep a close eye on him, and let me know if Jure is not who he seems to be. I do trust him, of course, or I would not send him. But it does not do to open all doors to someone without taking caution. Should you spot any trouble, please open the file drawer in my office labeled Supplies. Underneath the boxes of pens, paperclips, and first aid supplies, there is a folder. It is red. Inside that folder is the emergency plans. I trust you will not need this folder, but know it is there. I would not leave my people, my own daughter, without a contingency plan. I love you, Sigrid. More than you will ever know. SIDE B My children, I call to you from Bangalore, new home of the Societal Council headquarters. What a year it has been. I would not have thought only one year ago, that I, a fugitive of the Society, would travel all the way to its central hub, but here I am. Perhaps my progress is a miracle, perhaps the hand of whatever god there may be holds me upon their palm. Or perhaps I am creative, elusive and better than the police. Or do you think your leader gives herself too much credit? Probably so. In Bangalore, amidst floral gardens and fine linens, I met a man who could help me. He can help us. He will help us. I ask you to put aside your fear of outsiders as I have. I do not ask you to challenge your faith by accepting all strangers, I ask you to challenge your faith by accepting this man, who is not a stranger, not to me. His name is Jure. He runs a company that has contracts with the Department of North American Trade. He is not police. He is not military. He is simply a man who wants to make the world better. I am sure he likes making money while doing so, yes, but that is the nature of people who choose to live within the strict bounds of the Society. But Jure is more than business. He is vision. I tell you this now – you are the only people who may know and love Jure for this – he was once a part of The Cradle. It was not the Cradle of our own making, but another Cradle, inspired by our own, operating in Halifax. His mother and father raised him until he was 15 years old, but sadly they were taken from him. They were taken from him to a place so horrible that it is painful to even describe. An Institute intent on the destruction of human instinct. A sterile hell of injections and surgeries that all but rendered his parents dead. They survived their ordeal, but they lost all memory of Jure. He was left to fend for himself, everyone he’d ever known either arrested or fled beyond his knowledge – and the knowledge of those chasing them. Jure found odd jobs working as a mechanic, and later as an electrician. He was very skilled, for someone who had never had formal schooling. Initially he could only work as a daily laborer, for he had no government paperwork. But that was fine. All he wanted was enough work to keep him moving, keep him searching for his parents. For two years, he couldn’t find them, and then one day they suddenly appeared. Was it a miracle? Was it Jure’s dedication? Or was it simply the inevitability of time? After completing their re-programming at the Institute his parents were released, under probation, back into Society. They were given jobs and identification cards. They were placed in a public housing establishment in Washington, and Jure went to visit them. Jure risked his life and his freedom to see his parents again. He did not know he was risking something so much more precious - his spirit. Upon seeing his parents, Jure wept and lunged to embrace them, but his open arms were met with empty air. The couple did not reciprocate his love. They stared emptily into the eyes of their son, their only son. And they told him: “We do not know anyone named Jure, and we do not have a son. Please leave our home, before we call the police.” Jure pleaded with them to be honest, and to be fair, they were. They told him the truth as it had been crafted in their heads. No matter how he pleaded they could not remember him. Even if they had wanted to. He begged them to save him when the sirens glinted at the edges of the windows outside. But they could not. Jure fled through the fire escape and left Washington immediately. He traveled for years finding work here and there, nearly starving, nearly dying from exposure. He had no purpose to his travels anymore, no motivation to keep going. He was finally found by the police on his 24th birthday. My people, my Cradle, I tell you, ours is a dangerous life. It should not be a dangerous life to fear the Society. It should not be a dangerous life to want to raise children the way we want to raise children. It should not be a dangerous life to long for nature. But it is. The Department of Childhood Development in America placed Jure in an institute. The very place his parents had been sent, where humans are treated like pine planks in a carpentry project. The North Americans have built an institute that can erase your mind, crush your soul, if you dare to be human enough to love. Human enough to love! Jure avoided surgery and heavy medication and was let go within months of his sentence. He was given a job at a major construction corporation. He walked the line of Society. He did as he was told. He never communicated with his family again. He embraced the new Society with all the vigor of a child embracing his mother. So why did he abandon love, my children? Why do we trust such a man, such a betrayer of humanness? I tell you love is varied, like flowers. Some are small and yellow. Some are long and pink. Some only bloom in February. Some even draw blood. Jure still loves his family, but he knows for his own safety, and for theirs, he must love them from afar. He also knows that he is not the only man who has suffered under the new Society. He is within their ranks, yes, but he is not of their faith. Their blind belief that the rules made by its founders are just. Because it is the blindness of the masses that causes Society’s wrongs, more than their belief. Faith that is too brittle to be open is dangerous. We should all take that lesson to heart. I would never challenge your faith, my flock, if I had not challenged my own twice as much. I have looked deep, deep into my heart, and I know that Jure is the man to help us move forward. He can train us to avoid police raids, for he works directly with the police. He will provide us with weapons – which I’m sure you appreciate how much we need for our protection, both from possible raids and from whatever may be lurking around us – for he has connections with a manufacturer in Houston. He will inform us of the Society’s movements near Hedmark, for he has a source in the staff in Oslo. Jure knows I have visited many family societies, across this globe, and I have taught them all well. He wants to help me build this enterprise, to grow the Cradle so large that it cannot be raided, only accepted. I ask that you take some of the faith you have in me and place it with Jure. He is our salvation. My children. My friends. My loved ones. Please join me in a brief prayer. I know we are not united in religious belief, but we are united in human belief. Let us pray to ourselves, for ourselves. Repeat after me. Great humanity From which I was given life And to which I will give life back I pray to you Great humanity That you teach me to love To understand To empathize And to protect myself and others from dangers both natural and supernatural. Thank you. And now, dearest Cradle, I leave you to the charge of cleaning. Make nice our modest home for our new guest. Clean a room for him and clean your hearts for him. I wish the best for us all. Category:Transcripts